


choose you which you please

by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Devoted Reylo, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Poe loves a good LARP, ben solo is utterly delighted with rey, rey is utterly delighted with ben solo, rey will not put up with body shaming of any kind, ridiculous circumstances, wife or knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_theodora/pseuds/lachesisgrimm
Summary: Poe looked to him, then to the objects in his hands. “So how does this work?” he asked when the silence continued to stretch on. “Do you explain, or do we play charades, or…?”“I think I was just challenged to a duel,” Ben replied, too distracted to be amused by the way Poe nearly choked on a sip of coffee. “With swords.”“Holy shit."(In which Ben is very confused, and then very happy.)





	choose you which you please

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the hilarious twitter rundown of the ballad "The Berkshire Lady's Garland" (the title of this fic is also from the ballad itself), which you can see screenshots of [here](http://seananmcguire.tumblr.com/post/181897928960/curliestofcrowns-agreyeyedgirl-i-have-a-new). 
> 
> Be warned, this probably verges on crack. But I really needed to write some fluff! I did it for love!

If there was one thing that consistently befuddled Ben about his relationship with Rey, it was the fact that she was with him at all. Had, in fact, introduced herself first- albeit in the form of nearly running into him with her bike as he jogged along a local park trail- and after picking herself up off the ground with a truly meaningful “ _Fuck_ ” had looked him up and down, flashed him a smile, and offered to buy him coffee. 

That he had accepted was out of character. That he had insisted on carrying her bike (one blown wheel, a dented rim) to the coffee shop rather than make her haul it herself was not, because his mother had always been very firm on the subject of manners. 

_Besides,_ he had told himself at the time, _she’s injured._

Coffee had led to Rey perched on his bathroom counter while he cleaned and bandaged her scrapes, which had led to dinner, which had led to a late night showing of an action movie that he had barely paid attention to because she was holding his hand, which in turn had led to a year of dates, deep discussions, mind-blowing sex, the occasional fight, and- roughly ten months in- a shared lease. 

Which was why he was currently pinned to the couch by his beautiful girlfriend, happily distracted from whatever was on the television by the way she was gently biting one of his earlobes. 

“Have you ever considered getting an earring?” she asked, pushing his hair back to get a better look at the ear in question. 

“And draw attention to the damn things? People laugh at them enough as it is. Historically. Presently.”

His response was slow, almost lazy after several minutes of Rey lavishing kisses up his neck and over his face, though when she licked his cheek with the flat of her tongue in response he laughed quickly enough. “I like them,” she declared, looking as if she were repressing a grin as he dramatically wiped the affected skin with the back of one hand. 

“Terrible.” In one swift move he dumped her onto the wide couch, settling himself over her sprawled form with a grin. “My ears, not your tongue- though the move you just pulled was kind of disgusting,” he added teasingly. “Keep your tongue to yourself, Johnson.”

“Dangerous wish, Solo, given how much you’ve enjoyed my tongue in the past,” Rey replied archly. “I suppose you’ll have to do without any more kisses… or blow-jobs.” Her expression turned smug. “I seem to recall you liking those. And I was _considering_ performing such an act tonight, but…”

He couldn’t do anything _but_ smile at her threat, love for this ordinary night, for every word from her mouth, for _Rey_ sweeping through him. “Minx.”

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling. “I wonder what I’ll do with my tongue now,” she mused. “There’s still eating; that’s always a good past-time-”

“I’m going to kiss you,” he informed her, reaching down to hook one of her knees over his hip. “On the mouth.”

Her eyes were amused, but she managed to keep a straight face. “But that’s where my tongue is, Ben.”

“Thank you; I’m very aware.”

“And I’m supposed to be keeping that to myself, so-”

A muffled giggle slipped out of her mouth when he interrupted her mid-sentence, and- as he reminded her just how much he appreciated her clever tongue- she lightly, carefully caressed his ears. 

\- - -

The usual pile of mail waited on his desk Monday morning- query letters, sample chapters, manuscripts likely destined for the slush pile- and in the middle of the stack, a padded envelope bearing only his name in block lettering. Ripping it open, he found a single leather glove and a typed note.

And the note… was confusing.

_Sir:_

_You have slighted a dear friend and I demand satisfaction for your cruel affront. Either offer an apology in recompense, or prepare yourself to cross swords. Meet me at Alderaan Grove this Wednesday hence, at the evening hour of seven._

Ben read the note.

And then read the note again.

And then picked up the glove and considered calling the police. 

Poe, coffee in hand, stopped beside his desk. “Good weekend?”

In response Ben lifted the note and glove wordlessly. Poe looked to him, then to the objects in his hands. “So how does this work?” he asked when the silence continued to stretch on. “Do you explain, or do we play charades, or…?”

“I think I was just challenged to a duel,” Ben replied, too distracted to be amused by the way Poe nearly choked on a sip of coffee. “With swords.”

“Holy shit,” Poe replied with audible if raspy glee, setting down his mug to snatch the note from Ben’s hand. “Can I be your second?”

Ben- who had dropped the glove to reach for his phone- leveled an unbelieving look on his oldest friend. “Poe.”

“I’ll dig my old foil out of the closet.”

“ _Poe._ ”

“You still have yours, right?”

Hux slowed as he passed by, giving them both the kind of superior look that normally made Ben want to strangle him. “Exciting news, Dameron?”

“Ben’s been challenged to a _duel_.”

Hux stopped, stared- and then sniffed dismissively before continuing on his way with an airy “It was inevitable.”

Ben was finding it difficult to approach or even understand Poe’s level of enthusiasm, but Hux’s words still rubbed him the wrong way. “‘Inevitable’?” he repeated in an offended mutter. “What the hell’s so inevitable about it? I’m perfectly nice.”

“In a grumpy, glower-y kind of way, sure.” Poe was back to scrutinizing the note, the paper barely six inches from his face. “Rey is the only person you smile at consistently; you probably glared at the wrong person in the elevator one time too many.”

The former was true enough, at least; Ben often found it impossible _not_ to smile at Rey. “Still, it’s 2019, not 1819.” He put the glove back into the envelope and would have reclaimed the note if Poe hadn’t stepped back, out of his reach. “Poe, come on. It goes in the trash.”

“It does not,” Poe replied emphatically. “You cannot pass up this chance-”

“To be murdered in a public park?”

“To defend your honor! And it will make for a great story; just imagine how much Rey will laugh when you tell her about it.” Poe waggled his brows lasciviously. “Everyone knows duels are sexy, Solo. Everyone.”

Against his will, against all logic, Ben actually considered the idea. Rey- brave, adventurous Rey- always had wonderful stories, and he occasionally wondered if she found his a bit boring in comparison. Unless she planned some kind of outing for the two of them, Ben was perfectly happy to spend his free time quietly. He enjoyed cooking and podcasts and cuddling up to Rey on the couch, none of which made for exciting recollections at the end of the day.

“Besides,” Poe said, “it’s probably Hux. Challenging you to a duel is so _him_.”

“Hux would have slapped me across the face with that glove in person.” Ben sank into his chair. “The note clearly says I offended someone’s friend, and I’m pretty sure Hux doesn’t have any of those.”

“Other than Phasma, and you’re wrong about Hux.” Poe planted both hands on Ben’s desk and leaned in, still grinning like someone whose dreams had come true. “He’s too much of a coward to challenge you in person. Please, Ben. Please trounce his ass in combat.”

“No.”

“I’ll record the whole thing.”

“So that Hux’s attorney can enter it into evidence if I accidentally injure him?”

“So that we can finally start our new careers as viral video stars.” Poe shrugged when Ben simply delivered a flat stare in his direction. “Okay, okay, not that. Look- don’t you want to know? Won’t it kill you just a little bit to have this mystery hanging over your head for the rest of your life?”

Rather than answer, Ben turned to the work awaiting his attention.

Because he did want to know. He wanted to know _badly_ , curiosity working in overdrive in the same way it always did when presented with the unknown. _My little scholar,_ his mother had said more than once during his childhood, as thrilled by his tendency to read his way through the non-fiction section of the library as she was later disappointed by his refusal to go into law or politics. Publishing science-fiction books had not been quite what Leia Organa-Solo had had in mind for her son. 

“We don’t have to fight anyone,” Poe continued in a wheedle. “Just show up, get an explanation.” 

His hands resting lightly on the keyboard, Ben allowed himself one quiet groan. “You’re not going to let up until I agree, are you?”

“Not for a single second.”

“Fine.” Irritated by both his own interest and Poe’s persistence, Ben began typing out a terse response to an email with more force than was necessary. “But the damn foils stay at home.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“And no one records anything.”

“You bet.”

“And stop _dancing,_ Dameron, we’re fucking professionals.”

\- - -

Rey greeted him that evening with a thorough kiss and- her hands tucked in his back pockets- a cheerful “How are you?”

Feeling happier than he had all day, Ben buried his face in her hair, grinning as she grabbed his ass through the cloth. “Always better with you, Johnson.” Planting a kiss on her crown ( _engine oil and lemon soap; I love you_ ), he wrapped his arms firmly around her. “What would my sunshine like for dinner?”

“Everything you make is good.” She brushed her lips over his collarbone, clearly happy to stay where she was for the time being. “Read any great literature today?”

“Hmm.” He had been considering the contents of their fridge and cabinets, but put the mental inventory aside at her question. “Rose sent in a draft of her new book. I think it’s going to make a splash.”

She leaned back just enough to meet his gaze. “What’s it about?”

“Can’t tell you; sorry.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him. “Monster. You know I love her work.”

“I am, and I do.” He bent down to kiss her lightly, laughing against her mouth when she grabbed him again. “You’re going to leave a bruise, sweetheart.”

“You love it.” After untangling herself from his grasp she sauntered toward their small kitchen, shooting him a grin over her shoulder. “Come on, you tease.”

“A tease who loves you.”

Rey stopped, turning toward him. “I know. I love you, too.” She held out a hand as he approached, her grin gentling into a soft smile. “Even if you do taunt me with the latest Tico book.”

“I’ll bring you the first ARC off the production line,” he promised, knowing he sounded utterly besotted and not caring a whit. “I’ll ask Rose to sign a hardcover.”

The look in her eyes was the closest thing he had ever seen to avarice from Rey, and- understanding book-lust on a deep, personal level- he adored it. “I don’t need gifts,” she nonetheless protested, swinging their clasped hands between them. “Just you.”

“Resign yourself to at least a few,” he replied. “And pasta. Resign yourself to pasta.”

“If I must.”

He didn’t even think of the package until he was dicing tomatoes, the serrated knife barely missing his thumb when he spent just a moment too long admiring the curve of Rey’s smile. “I, uh, got something weird in the mail, today.”

“More space tentacle porn?”

Ben laughed quietly. “No. Someone challenged me to a duel.”

She burst into giggles, nearly aspirating on a sip of wine. “ _Ben._ ”

“I’m serious.”

“Of what, wits?”

“Swords.” He shrugged when she directed a wide-eyed look in his direction. “I told you it was weird. Poe-”

She began laughing again, leaning against the counter. 

“What?”

“Poe.” Rey grinned, shoulders still shaking. “That is just like him.”

“Talking me into going?” he asked slowly, putting down the knife. “Not that I’m going to fight, or anything, but…”

She looked confused, a frown briefly crossing her face. “He wasn’t the challenger?”

“No. It was anonymous.” Ben looked down at the cutting board, reconsidering the events of the morning. “He thought it might be Hux, but…”

“ _But_.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips as everything fell into place. “Poe played me, didn’t he? This is some strange ploy to finally get me into his fantasy LARP group.”

Rey set his wine glass next to the cutting board, her expression teasing. “My dark knight. Tell him I want pictures of you bashing the cosplay elves with your foam sword.”

“Rey.”

“Your large, turgid, _dangerous_ sword.” 

“Seriously?”

She pulled her t-shirt over her head with a grin, letting the article of clothing drop to the kitchen floor. “Impale me, Solo.”

For a moment he simply stared at her. Finally- in a very serious voice- he said, “Remember that you asked for this.”

Rey laughed when he tossed her over his shoulder, and laughed when he dropped her onto the bed, and laughed still when he fucked her firmly into the mattress, though the sound was mixed with the occasional moan. “Your sword is so _big_ , milord,” she gasped as he thrust, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “And I a… a captive, untried maiden.”

She laughed yet again when he pulled out and turned her roughly onto her belly, Ben feeling more aroused than he thought possible by her ridiculous role-play. “The only sword you’ll ever know,” he growled, grasping her hips firmly. The words felt awkward, but her delighted squeak when he took her again was unfeigned. “You will succumb to my… my-”

“Bed-sport?” Rey suggested. “Carnal attentions?” Her fingers digging into the sheets, she managed to look back, hair wild. “Seed?”

He nearly came on that word alone. “God, Rey.”

“Give me your seed, milord.” She sounded so amused, so utterly thrilled by their play. “I’ll give you a strong heir.”

He toppled over the edge, spilling into her with a groan. 

“Well, you can go to war now,” she said after, her voice thready as he stroked between her legs. “If you die in honorable combat I- _oh_ \- will raise your child according to… to… the chivalric code.”

“I don’t have to go to ‘war’ until Wednesday, so-”

He grinned when she keened, his fingers lightly stroking her clit. “-so I guess we can do this all over again tomorrow night.”

“Oh, Ben. Harder. _Please._ ”

“And after the battle I’ll expect a hero’s welcome.”

She was beyond words, at that point. As she trembled in his arms, rocking her hips against his hand, he nipped at her neck. “ _Rey._ ”

\- - -

That Poe acted as if nothing were wrong the next day made sense. 

That Poe acted as if nothing were wrong on Wednesday made sense. 

That Poe personally escorted him to Alderaan Grove was a little perplexing, but Ben simply assumed that a horde of elves and orcs would be his welcome party.

But no one was there. The meadow was completely empty. 

“Not very prompt,” Ben muttered. “It’s almost five minutes after.”

“Justice knows no time-frame, Ben.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly, and decided to just _ask._ “So what’s my role? Am I the villain, or the hero?”

Poe shot him a puzzled, overly-innocent glance. “What?”

“In this scenario you’ve dreamt up.” Poe continued to look as if Ben were spouting gibberish. “Look, I know this is some kind of surprise LARP deal, so-”

“No,” Poe interrupted, shaking his head. “We don’t LARP on Wednesdays, dude; too many of us have early mornings during the week.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Look, Poe, this has all been very entertaining, but-”

But Poe was backing away, hands in his pockets, and what felt surprisingly like a sword was poking Ben in exactly the middle of his back. “En garde,” a voice said, the accent distinctly British. “Stand and deliver, my good sir.”

None of this made sense, but Ben recognized that voice and every hint of tension disappeared from his body. Taking a few quick steps forward, he turned. “Rey.”

The black mask covering her eyes was just a slip of a disguise; the merest nod to anonymity. “Hardly.” Her weapon- a sword after all, and one that looked familiar from his occasional perusal of Poe’s instagram account- was still leveled between them. “The Dread Pirate Johnson, perhaps.”

“Does that make me Princess Buttercup?” Though his confusion remained, Ben was willing to play any kind of game Rey might have come up with. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

She grinned, poking him lightly in the chest with her sword. “You do have perfect tits.”

“I like yours better.”

“What a charmer you are.” A more serious expression replaced the grin, but her body language still read as amused. “Do you remember this spot?”

“I have very clear memories of you almost running me down right about… _there._ ” He sought out the spot and pointed. “My life flashed before my eyes,” he teased. “I’ve never forgotten it.”

“Me neither.” Sincerity, with no hint of laughter. “I picked myself up the ground, all bruises and scrapes, and saw you- so incredibly handsome, so _beautiful_.”

A blush burned his cheeks. “Rey.”

“And so sweet,” she continued, dropping the sword to her side. “I liked you then, but I love you now, Ben. So much, and every bit of you. Even the parts you make fun of.” She closed the gap between them. “Like your ears,” Rey said, tone turning stubborn. “I’m very fond of those ears. I intend to have children with ears just like that.”

As odd as the situation was, he could still feel himself melting at her words, every edge softening and bending to her. “You do?”

“If you agree.” She reached up with her free hand, fingertips brushing over his earlobe. “So you have a choice, Ben- you can fight me now, or you can apologize for maligning your perfect ears… and if you like, you can take this ring.”

It took her a moment to dig the gold circle from her pocket, but the length of time didn’t matter- he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. “I hope it’s the right size,” Rey said, a little nervously. “I had to guess. And I know it’s not traditional, but… but I want to marry you. Please.”

He carefully placed his hands at her waist, a tear dripping unashamedly down his cheek. “How could I refuse you?”

The sword dropped to the grass as her breathing quickened. “Really?”

“Really.” An ogling jogger ran past them and he barely noticed, too intent on her. “I would love to be Mr. Dread Pirate Johnson.” Tomorrow. Immediately. Forever. “And I’ll do my best to be kind to my ears.”

One brow arched over her mask, but below was a tremulous smile. “You had better, milord.”

“Can I still make fun of my giant feet?” he asked, almost stupidly overjoyed.

“No.”

“What about-”

“Absolutely nothing.” 

“Okay.” He offered her his left hand, slipping his right to the small of her back. “Give me my ring, sweetheart.” He could hear how his own words trembled as the gold band settled perfectly at the base of his ring finger. “And take me home.”

For a moment they just stood there, Rey’s eyes staring up into his. “Do you want me to keep the mask on when I ride you?” she asked finally, her voice quiet.

A smile stretched across his face. His perfect, perfect Rey. “Yes- and don’t forget the sword.”


End file.
